Midnight Sun (Twilight #1.5)(133)

She looked back at my hand again, like she was checking that it was still there. Suddenly I was shivering in pleasure as her fingers began tracing lines up and down my arm again. She returned her gaze to my face again and smiled apprehensively. Was everything back to normal now? I returned her smile quickly so she would feel reassured.

"So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?" I asked, making sure she realized that I was still sorry for my mistake.

"I honestly can't remember," she said, and I was grateful for her response.

I smiled but the remorse was still plain on my face.

"I think we were talking about why you were afraid, besides the obvious reason." I reminded her.

"Oh, right," she paused.

"Well?" I pushed, impatiently.

She looked away from me again, and stared fixedly on my hand that she was caressing. She didn't look back up or respond for several seconds. What are you thinking? I asked internally. I was becoming extremely frustrated.

"How easily frustrated I am," I sighed then.

She returned her gaze to my face, still not responding. I wanted to take her into my arms then, but she saved me from making my mistake by finally responding, "I was afraid... because, for, well, obvious reasons, I can't stay with you. And I'm afraid that I'd like to stay with you, much more than I should."

Her eyes left mine then, returning to our hands. Was she finally admitting what I have been trying to convince her of the whole time? That being with me was dangerous...

"Yes," I agreed, "That is something to be afraid of, indeed. Wanting to be with me. That's really not in your best interest."

She frowned then. Was she upset now? What was I doing to this wonderful girl? Will I inevitable kill her?

"I should have left long ago," I sighed. I was now beginning to think aloud, "I should leave now. But I don't know if I can."

She pulled me out of my thoughts, "I don't want you to leave," she whimpered, looking at our hands again.

Why did she have to make everything so difficult? Why did she have to want me as absolutely as I wanted her?

"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should," I said. I crave more than just her company, I crave her body, her blood, her soft sweet lips...

"I'm glad."

"Don't be!" I snapped.

I pulled my hand from her grip. I couldn't let her go if she was holding onto me. I showed her what kind of a monster I am and she becomes frightened - then I try to reassure her that I won't hurt her... What is my problem? I moved my gaze from her face to the forest, knowing I couldn't let her go if I was staring at her, looking into those deep chocolate eyes.

"It's not only your company I crave. Never forget that. Never forget I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else." I realized I had become harsh, and again, I was nervous that I might have hurt her feelings.

I heard her heart beating. It was a heavenly sound. She spoke then, "I don't think I understand exactly what you mean - by that last part anyway."

I turned to look at her then; I hadn't expected her to ask this question. I smiled, realizing I never truly explained what her blood does to me.

"How do I explain?" I deliberated, "And without frightening you again... hmmmm."

My hand was suddenly warm again, and I realized that it had found its way back into her hands. I reached out and placed it there without even giving it my permission. I was distracted immediately, "That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth." I sighed.

I began thinking of how I could explain what her blood does to me. What could I say that would make it not sound like I was fighting to not drink her blood every second I was around her? It's true, the monster has been clawing less, but that is because my desires to possess her in other ways had become forefront in my mind. Maybe a food analogy?

"You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?" I asked, "Some people love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?"

She nodded, and I decided that maybe food wasn't the best way to explain this, "Sorry about the food analogy - I couldn't think of another way to explain."

She smiled and I returned it. I mulled over how to explain this craving I have, "You see, every person smells different, has a different essence. If you locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, he'd gladly drink it. But he could resist, if he wished to, if he were a recovering alcoholic. Now, let's say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac - and filled the room with its warm aroma - how do you think he would fare then?" I tried to explain.

I stared fixedly at her then, waiting for her to understand. Alcohol was such a weak comparison. How her blood could ever compare to something so flagrant. At that moment, a light breeze enhanced what I was thinking. Her scent continued to leave a dry dull ache in my throat. She still hadn't answered.

"Maybe that's not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy to turn down the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroin addict instead." I decided.

I had never drank alcohol or did any type of drug, those things do nothing for me, but I do know what these things could do to a human. My degrees in medicine helped me understand these types of addictions, but my addiction to Bella was still no comparison.